Emboldened
by jbade
Summary: The house was imposing, ivy crawling up the walls. "I didn't even think buildings like this existed," Mai whispered. Naru gave an exasperated sigh. "Yes, Mai, they exist. Now, if you'd be so kind..." Mai seethed quietly as he started towards the house, leaving them to bring in the equipment. "Ridiculous," a young man snorted, peering down at them from the cracked attic window.
1. Knocking on the Walls

**Hey there. So, this is my first fanfiction... ever! I'm extremely nervous, but excited. Please let me know what you think! I'll try to update as often as possible, I promise.  
~~**

It began with a drilling sound.

It was persistent. Almost neverending. Like someone was using my ear as a pencil sharpener, grinding the graphite against my ear drum with horrific force.

Then there was the knocking.

_Bang, bang, bang. Pop, pop, pop. _Sometimes it sounded like a cannon ball was flying through my bedroom wall, other times, like someone was walking on a floor of bubble wrap.

And there were voices. Plenty of voices.

"_Ohayou,_ _mina._"

"_Gomennasai!"_

"_Sayounara, yuujin._"

An infinite amount of Hey, Bobu! How's it going? You doing well? Oh yes, yes, I'm doing well. And that kid of yours? Oh, she's great. Took her first steps the other day. Really, man? That's awesome, good for you guys!

But the worst was the hallucinations, the seeing things. The rooms of my house changing, rearranging; entire walls missing, moved.

Sometimes, I swear I even saw people. Or at least partials of people.

A hand, a foot. A shoe here, a whisp of hair or cuff of a coat there.

My old friend Yami was in my kitchen one morning. Or what used to be the kitchen. It now appeared to be a half-finished, clean styled sitting room—Anyways, upon my appearance in the doorway, Yami merely nodded and followed me as I led him to the one room that seemed untouched by the commotion—a room I had come to call my bedroom. Though, if there had ever been a bed in the room, it had vanished long before I appeared.

"Try knocking on the walls," Yami suggested as we walked through the still-existent second floor hallway. I turned, shooting him a raised eyebrow.

"Do you really think that would work?"

He shrugged. "Always worked for me." He stopped, lifting his right hand in a fist. He hesitated, concentrating, before bringing it against the wall. It impacted, and he repeated the motion, a hollow knocking sound echoing not only through the hallway, but through the walls of the entire house as well.

From somewhere on the first floor, the drilling stopped. Voices, muffled and high-pitched with confusion and worry, took its place.

I grinned at Yami as he looked at me, laughter in his eyes.

I copied him, bringing my fist to the wall without the need for a moment to center my focus.

The voices grew louder, higher.

"Stomping works, too, I'm told," he said. "Especially on the stairs."

But someone beat us to it. Yami and I froze as footsteps resounded up the old wooden staircase, loud, hard, rebounding smacks as rubber sole hit hollowing, rotting plank.

A whole entity arrived at the top of the staircase, and we stared at him, Yami and I, our eyes wide. He was a short, heavily-muscled man, thick jeans and a thicker jacket. In one hand, hanging down by his side, he held a shiny, rounded hat, or something I only could assume to be a hat, while the other was raised, his stubby, unkempt fingers scratching deep into his shaggy black hair. Dark stubble lined his set, square chin, cutting between his rather large nose and slim, unsmiling lips. His light-colored eyes moved back and forth, from one wall to the other, surveying the hallway.

"'s nuffin' here, Kudo. Yer just hearin' things."

"I swears, I's not. I herd somfin' alright," came a squeaky voice from behind him. This voice, belonging presumably to a man—or pre-pubescent child—named Kudo, was the voice from before, the high squak that had responded with worry to Yami's and I's knocking.

"What ya herd, Kudo," said the large man, turning away from us, "was that dried up thin' rollin' between those eyes 'a' yer's."

"But, but, Koru, I swears, I herd—"

"What the hell are you two fussin' about?" echoed a voice from somewhere farther away than the presumed Kudo and Koru. The voice was heavy with authority, causing the large man Koru to stiffen.

"'s nuffin', _bosu._ Kudo's just goin' crazy 'gin."

"Well, tell 'im to be crazy with that damn hammer while you're gettin' crazy with the saw. I need those walls up by sunset or neither of yous is gettin' paid."

"Y- yes, _bosu_!" yelped Koru, squaked Kudo simultaneously as the two nearly flew down the stairs.

I stared in silence as Yami broke out in wild laughter.

"Did you see them?" he hollered. I looked at him.

"What was that?" I whispered, shock keeping me from raising my voice any higher. Yami continued to smile, holding back his laughter. He wiped a tear from his eye as he tried to look at me seriously. With little success.

"Those_, Sukai-chan_—" laughter—"are what we call some _live one_s."


	2. Ink on the Stairs

Whereas I was frightened by the thought of what might happen if I pestered the live ones too much, Yami seemed to enjoy bothering them.

Eventually, he became bored with simply rapping on the walls and stomping down the stairs.

"Yami?" I asked, standing in the middle of the long hallway on the second floor. Yami stood at the top of the stairs, looking down. Something sat on the floor in front of him.

The ever-present _thumping_ and _banging_ echoed from below us, and I suddenly was aware of Yami's perturbed expression. "Yami?" I asked again.

But he shushed me, not even throwing a glance my way. He was staring intently at the object in front of him.

After a moment, I gave an exasperated sigh. "Yami, what are you doing?"

"Concentrating. Sh." I ignored him.

"What is that?" I asked, taking a couple steps toward him. When I was a couple feet away, he finally looked up at me.

"You could do it, right?" he asked, his eyes wide and questioning.

"Do what?" I threw him a puzzled look. He gestured toward the thing in front of him.

"Push it down the stairs."

"Why…would I do that?" Yami smiled, closing the space between us and grabbing my shoulders excitedly.

"We've got to get rid of them, _Sukai-chan_!" he said. I just stared at him.

"We… do?"

Now he threw me the puzzled look. "Don't you want them gone? Don't their noises annoy you?"

"Well, sure. I suppose. I guess, I don't know, I've been tuning it out. Messing with them got sort of boring," I said, cringing at the despondent expression on his face. His hands dropped to his sides.

"Nevermind," he muttered. He looked lost. "I thought you were actually bothered by something. I thought the reason you stayed here was because you were protecting something. I thought you were stuck."

Yami wasn't looking at me, but I stared at him. He'd traveled around a lot, disappearing and reappearing here when he felt like it; I knew he'd learned more about world that I probably ever would.

But I couldn't think of anything I was trying to protect. This _was_ just a house, wasn't it? An empty, abandoned house… that's why I stayed here, wasn't it? Because no one else was here.

Except now there was Kudo and Koru. Were they here to stay? I hadn't really thought about it—Sort of like I'd never thought about leaving.

But was I stuck? Is that why I never thought to leave?

…Why I didn't really _want_ to leave?

Yami bent down next to the object at the top of the stairs. He was focusing hard on it again, seemingly ignoring my presence.

"I mean… Of course, right?" I said after a couple moments. "It's my house, isn't it?"

Yami looked at me, eyes flashing. He smiled, jumping up and hitting me gently on the arm.

"I don't know who else's it would be," he said. He nudged me forward. "You can move that, right?"

I looked at him. "Can't you?" To my surprise, he shook his head. "How did you move it here?"

"Took me about three days to move it from that room," he said, nodding towards the doorway that was open opposite the staircase. I wasn't sure how long three days was, but judging from Yami's tone, it was unsatisfactorily long.

Taking in a deep breath, I stepped up to the object, looking at it for a second. It was a small trunk—one I recognized, but it was more worn than the last time I had seen it. Scratched, rotting in a corner, the leather straps torn and canvas covering faded. I looked over at Yami, who smiled.

Then, cautiously, I lifted my hands, and pushed.

The trunk tumbled down the stairs with threatening force, spilling its contents as it flew open; bits and pieces of soiled cloth, yellowed pages, a bottle of ink that splattered over the stairs as the glass shattered.

Yami let out a whoop of laughter as there were shouts from downstairs.

I could hear the footsteps of Kudo and Koru, and I ducked behind the wall just in time to hear their voices.

"The _hell_—" Koru thundered. "Son of a—"

Kudo cut him off with a high-pitched squeal. "I'm tellin' ya, Koru. 'S haunted, this place. Somfin' wants us gone, an' I says we git!"

My eyes wild, I looked towards Yami, only to find him gone.

"We can' leave, Kudo. _Bosu_'s orders."

I didn't stick around to hear Kudo's response, choosing instead to run to the safety of my bedroom, the door slamming harshly behind me as I climbed up the stairs.

I was pleased, if a little guilty, when the noises of the two at work never resumed.

The new noises, however, made me miss them.


	3. A New Set of Noises

I refused to leave my bedroom after that. Not without Yami, anyways. I didn't care if I was supposed to be protecting something.

The room I referred to as my bedroom was full of old rotting boxes and crumbling, marked chests. Chairs stood atop tables; dusty lamps on the floor, tucked in the lightless back corners. Old porcelain dolls laid in pieces, hair tousled and clothes askew, having fallen from slanted shelves and the tops of dressers. A full length mahogany floor mirror stood regally next to the one sizable window, lower left pane cracked and paint chipping. Standing there I could imagine myself in the mirror, or what I may have looked like the last time my reflection gazed from out at me. Yami said that if I concentrated enough I would be able to see myself there once again, but, and this is in all secrecy, I was scared of what I might see, so I never bothered to try. If I turned my head just a little ways to my right, I could gaze out the window at the overgrown, tangled, and rather uninteresting shrubbery (if it can still be called that) that now dominated the walkway and the driveway, as well as the original patches of landscape and yard.

Needless to say, the boredom was gnawing my insides the way a guard-dog might the bone of an intruder that proved too slow.

I was sitting crosslegged on top of the chest under the cracked window, a worn, mouse-enjoyed copy of _The Complete Collection of Works by Edgar Allan Poe_ open on my lap—my only means to escape from the boredom- when the voices returned. But these were new voices, different voices, and with all the other new noises they were making, I couldn't help but be curious at first.

I descended from my perch, placing the small book on the chest top, and went down the stairs cautiously. I pushed the door open slowly, asking it to please not creak, and stepped out into the hallway which was still untouched by the greedy, clumsy hands of Koru and Kudo and their _bosu_.

Almost immediately, I felt as if I was being watched. The hair on the back of my neck pricking up, shivers running through my spine—I wasn't sure I'd ever felt anything so eerie. Standing up straight, superficially declaring _not_ to be frightened in my own home (or what was left of it), I looked around eyeing everything suspiciously.

On the other end of the hallway, tucked in the corner, was a rather tall, black, shiny contraption with a box on top that seemed to be glaring at me. I moved closer, noticing that in reality it was no taller than my upper waist, and that it couldn't possibly be glaring at me, as it was neither a live one nor something like myself. It was no more animate than a statue of a cat. Or a statue of anything, for that matter.

A tiny green light flashed in the side of the black box, and I reached out, looking to touch it, to put it out. The contraption tumbled as I hit it, falling to the floor with an overwhelming loud _clatter _and _crack_ as it slammed hard on the wood floor. I heard a holler from the first floor and was preparing to dart away when footsteps thundered up the stairs chaotically. Like the times with Koru and Kudo, I did nothing else but freeze in place, only having made it a few feet from the remains of the contraption.

The first to enter my vision was a tall, thin young man with very pale skin—almost as white as the head of a porcelain doll- his choice of solid black clothing creating a stark, almost shocking contrast. He had what could only be described as shaggy black hair, but in a way that didn't resemble Koru's in the slightest; this man's was neat, trimmed, obviously sitting the way he wanted to and not the way it had been when he rolled out of bed in the morning. His eyes were most decidedly blue, and unreadable. They were far too heavy for a man so young. He almost immediately made his way over to the crumpled black contraption, eyeing the pieces.

Several others reached the top of the stairs after him, all seeming to take cues from his actions and crowding around the contraption.

There was a young girl, a brunette with short, unkempt hair and chocolate brown eyes. "I swear I didn't do it this time," she said, crossing her arms.

A woman, a young adult, whose maroon hair fell below her shoulders, stood next to this young girl, her hands on her hips as she released a sigh from between her red lips. "Obviously not, you were with us the whole time."

A man of about the same age stood next to her, his caramel colored hair tied back behind his neck. He smiled warmly with a hand raised behind his head, seeming to find the woman's tone amusing.

"Is it broke?" An accented voice, belonging to the young man who stood just behind the caramel-haired man. I found his appearance the most familiar: blond hair, eyes a warm water blue, different from the indigo-like color of the black-clad young man.

Said young man was surveying the damage of my clumsiness. "It would appear the lens is cracked," he said carefully, standing up and turning to face his acquaintances as he fiddled with the black box. "Lin will have to look at the tape and find something salvageable. Mai, John," he said, addressing the young brunette and the blond, "go grab that leftover camera from the van and—"

"Wait," breathed a voice. My attention was drawn to a petite young girl with cropped, tidy black hair that stood next to John. She wore a blue patterned kimono that complimented her steady, but wide violet gaze.

"Masako?" chimed the voice of the brunette, Mai. "What is it?"

This girl, Masako, her gaze drifted around the hallway for a moment before settling on one spot.

"There's someone else here," she whispered as her eyes met mine. My breath caught in my throat and swallowed hard. I held her gaze as best I could, trying to convince myself that she couldn't see me, not really. Yami never said anything about them being able to see us.

But while the others' gazes searched the room and she held mine, I could feel the indigo blue eyes of the young man in black boring into me. Could he see me, too?

I stumbled, feeling my knees start to give way, but I forced my legs to move, to carry me to the other end of the hallway where I scrambled through my door. I moved halfway up my staircase before turning around. I sat on the steps for a few moments, staring at the wide open door, still feeling the girl's violet gaze and the young man's indigo eyes on me, following every movement I made. I leaped forward, grabbing the doorknob and pulling the door shut, the hinges squealing, the wood of the door and frame _clacking _together, the jostle of the brass knob. I shut it and held it closed with all my strength, even when hands banged on the other side, when hands gripped the outside doorknob and tugged and pulled and twisted.

I held the door closed and yelled at them to go away, to leave, to stay away from my home until my throat burned. Until long after they had retreated.

**I decided to post an additional chapter tonight- Thanks for your patience, I know it took me awhile to get to SPR! Let me know what you think!  
A couple disclaimers:  
I don't own Ghost Hunt (I'm pretty sure all of you know that;)  
And I don't really do a lot of research when writing, so I took some creative license with poltergeists (I think) and am pretty much making up the ghost stuff as I go. Hope that doesn't bother anyone too terribly!  
Thanks so much to:  
14AmyChan, Emina105, and Rose for being my first reviews:) They were a ****huge**** confidence boost!  
CrescentMoonTenshi, 14AmyChan, Emina105, thank you for the follows!  
Please let me know what you think, I'll update again soon!  
Everyone, do feel free to PM me if you have any suggestions, ideas, etc:) I appreciate any input you may have.**


	4. Playing Dirtier

I sat at the top of my bedroom staircase, knees up, elbows resting on the caps and my chin resting worriedly on my palms. I stared shell-shocked at the closed door below me, waiting anxiously for it to burst open, for the intruders to invade the one space I refused to let them have. How exactly I was going to prevent them from taking it I hadn't yet figured.

I jumped as a light _knock _resounded from the other side. "_Sukai-chan_?"

I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. Yami.

Carefully, I made my way down the stairs, grabbing the knob as if to open it but pausing, leaning into the door. "Yami," I muttered. "I don't know, but I think they can see us. Something to do with the black thing on the other end of the hallway. You're going to have to just appear over here."

I could hear the frown in his voice as he responded. "_Sukai-chan_, I've never been on the other side of this door. I can't appear somewhere without first seeing it."

I sighed, summoning resolve, and twisted the knob. The door pushed open, the hinges obeying my desire for their silence, and Yami stepped in, skirting around me and up the stairs. Quick as I could, I closed the door again. After waiting a few moments to see if the intruders had noticed, I followed Yami, who had begun poking through the old furniture, boxes, and other rubble.

"This is it?" he asked, looking at me, flipping through a decaying book and sighing. "This is what you're protecting?" I stared at him, momentarily confused as he dropped his concentration, causing the book to fall through his grasp and slam hard against the floor. "There's nothing worth anything here," he continued. He eyed the book I had left on the chest top, reaching for it, but I snatched it up before he could get a better look at.

"So?" I muttered, holding the book close. He sighed, looking at me.

"Well, at any rate, this place is worse off than I remember." I gaped at him.

"What do you mean, you said you'd never been in here!" He chuckled at my accusation.

"I lied. I just wanted you to open the door."

"But—but—I told you!" I exclaimed. "They can _see_ me, they can _see _us!" He just laughed again.

"They can't _see _anything; a few can _sense _us, if they're lucky. And besides, if you want them to go away, you have to keep messing with them, scaring them. You can't just duck in a corner of the attic and hope your silence drives them away."

"But they know I'm here," I argued. "What happens if they retaliate?" Yami snorted in disgust.

"Please, don't tell me that's what you're scared of. You, of all people…things."

"You're not very good at explaining things, you know," I muttered, glaring at him before wandering over to the window and looking out, the book still clutched tightly.

"Oh, come on, _Sukai-chan_," he groaned. "If you're waiting for me to tell you that you're dead, there you go." Again, I responded with a glare.

"Well, I had decided it was safe to assume that, thanks for your help. What I want to know is—"

"Sh," Yami suddenly said, throwing me a look before ducking back into the shadows. At the bottom of the stairs, the door hinges squealed as it opened.

"Hey, that's weird," came the soft voice of the brunette Mai. "The hinges never squealed over the recordings."

"How very observant of you, Mai," replied the voice of the indigo-eyed man. It dripped with condescension as he continued. "I suppose I should explain that poltergeists often have the ability to extend their will, if only just enough to keep hinges from squealing and knock expensive cameras over."

Their footsteps began up the staircase and I stiffened before leaving the book on the windowsill and darting behind the full-length mirror. Not the greatest hiding place, but if what Yami said was true, they'd be able to tell the two of were here no matter how good our hiding capabilities.

"So, you're convinced this is a poltergeist we're dealing with?" John, the young blond with the accent.

"I'm quite confident in that reasoning," said the indigo-eyed man, who had reached the top of the stairs. He did not look behind himself as he spoke, instead surveying the crowded space before him. Mai stepped up next to him, edging sideways enough to allow John to come up. I gasped as the girl in the kimono, known as Masako to her companions, appeared behind him. Masako copied me, gasping, though she threw herself onto the arm of the indigo-eyed young man. I raised an eyebrow as Mai seemed to seethe quietly. "Mai," said the young man with the girl on his arm, "what is the temperature in this room?"

Glaring, Mai looked at the object she held in her hand. "It's reading 57 degrees Fahrenheit; almost five degrees colder than the downstairs hallway."

"A draft, perhaps?" suggested John.

"A possibility, though I don't imagine that's the only reason for the immense temperature drop. Besides, this is an attic and it's the middle of summer. It would be warmer with a draft and no apparent insulation."

"There's more here now," said Masako, drawing the attention of her companions, as well as the attention of Yami, who had come forward from the shadows. "A girl, a young girl, the same presence as before." Masako's eyes darted around the room. "Though, she's hiding from us now, watching us from a corner I imagine." A forlorn expression crossed her face as the indigo-eyed, black-clad young man stepped away from her, approaching my hiding spot. He had noticed the book I had left on the windowsill.

"And what's the other presence like, Masako?" asked John. Now the dark-haired girl's expression grew worried.

"It's darker, hazier," she said. "I can't quite make it out. I think, maybe—"

"Yami!" I hissed as he stepped closer to her. He looked annoyed, even angry.

"Something twisted," Masako continued, unaware of the enclosing presence of Yami. "Oppressive. Or maybe—"

"What are you doing?" I whispered, trying to attract his attention. "Yami, stop!"

But he ignored me, violence in his eyes as he stepped ever closer to Masako.

"It doesn't want us here, I think, but there's something…" whispered Masako.

Time seemed to slow for a moment as Yami began to raise his hands. I grunted, grabbing the mirror and push-pulling it sideways so that it slammed to the ground, its wood frame cracking against the floor, the glass shattering.

Yami looked at me, his eyes expressing a feral growl before he evaporated, leaving Masako untouched. But the four of them were looking at me now, or rather, at the broken mirror that lay on its side in between me and the black-clad young man.

"What the… Naru, did you do that?" whispered Mai, coming over as her companion, Naru, bent down, analyzing the pieces of the mirror the way he had the black contraption earlier.

"I'm not going to acknowledge that question on account of its stupidity," Naru stated simply. Again, Mai seemed to seethe.

"She did it," Masako said. Mai growled.

"What? How could I—"

"Not you, Taniyama. _Her_."

"I believe Miss Hara means the poltergeist," supplied John. The blonde hadn't moved, remaining at the top of the stairs with a hand on the unstable railing.

"Why? To prove that she's here?" asked Mai.

"Obviously not," said Naru, standing up, the book still in his hand. "More of distraction, I imagine."

"A distraction from what?" Mai wondered aloud, though she was supplied with no answer. During this entire conversation, I had not moved an inch, my breathing shallow. I was too scared to make any sort of disturbance, fearing that it might make me more noticeable to my unwelcome acquaintances. All I could find the courage to do was hope that they went away. Quickly.

"At any rate," began Masako after a moment. "I believe it's safe to say that the poltergeist is the harmless one in this case. It's the other presence that I fear we should worry about, though it seems to have disappeared now."

Naru opened his mouth, seemingly preparing to respond, when a scream echoed from one of the floors below.

"Ayako!" exclaimed Mai, disappearing back down the staircase, closely followed by John, then Masako, and finally Naru, who cast a final gaze around the room before leaving. The book was still in his hand, but I had no energy to chase after him for it.

I fell to the ground, breathing heavily after they had left, feeling my anxiety and fear beginning to fade.

"Aren't you the slightest bit curious?" a familiar voice suddenly asked. I looked beside me, where Yami stood in front of the window, his gaze heavy but grin teasing. I gave an exasperated sigh.

"Not if it means being around them again." He laughed.

"You don't want to see what I gave to them? What I did for you?" I raised an eyebrow at him.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm telling you, _Sukai-chan_, you can't just hide from them. They're going to play dirty, so you've got to play dirtier."

"Yami—"

"Why did you stop me?" he asked, crouching down, his gaze pleading as it meant mine.

"What do you mean, why did I stop you?"

"When you knocked over the mirror. Why did you stop me from—" guilt flashed over his expression, if only for an instant. Defensive anger rose in me like the wave of a stormy ocean.

"I don't know, Yami. What _did_ I stop you from doing?" I asked, my voice harsher than I expected it to be. I didn't understand why he was so insistent upon getting live ones out of this house. Anger flared up in his eyes again, the same anger I'd seen as he'd stalked Masako.

"You know what," he said, his voice louder than usual as he stood up. "Never mind. Just forget about it. But next time," he glared at me, "next time you probably won't be so damn lucky. Next time, you can bet I won't be here to get you out of the mess that _you_ caused. Next time, you can find your own way to get them out of your hair."

"Yami," I said, trying to get him to calm down. But he only grumbled something at me before vanishing again, leaving me on floor beside the shards of a broken mirror.


	5. Necessary History

Naru ran his hand over the top of the skull, rotating it every now and then in his palm, inspecting it from every angle.

"It was just there," Ayako said. Her voice was still pitched, but she had calmed down since the others had found her.

"It's not like you to get so worked up over something as natural as bones, " Monk chided playfully, leaning his head back on his arms.

Ayako, temper flaring, proceeded to hit Monk over the head. "Oh, please. Like you wouldn't have screamed if some _skull_ just appeared on the table next—"

"A cat," Naru muttered.

The others gazes turned to him, Ayako's anger temporarily forgotten, just like Monk's sore head. When the head of Shibuya Psychic Research failed to respond to their questioning gazes, Mai coughed.

"You're going to have to explain if you want us to respond," she said, throwing her boss a critical glance.

But the young man was ignoring her, his gaze still fixated on the skull.

Mai coughed again, causing Monk to chuckle and John to run his hand through his hair bashfully.

"Obviously," Masako began, bringing her fist gracefully up in front of her mouth, "Naru said, 'Cat.' In other words, I believe the skull he is holding belongs, or pardon me, _belonged_ to a cat."

"But why would a cat skull be in the middle of a partially renovated kitchen?" Mai wondered aloud.

"An old stray, perhaps?" John supplied helpfully.

"Aw, the poor thing," Mai sighed.

Naru had stopped listening, as he often did when the others began to speculate. Speculating, Naru had long decided, was unhelpful, only proving to twist what the researcher knew into what he thought he knew.

And Naru, obviously, was too intelligent for that. Much too intelligent.

He had to admit, John's scenario was a plausible, if simple solution. But for all of Ms. Mazuki's flaws, he didn't believe her to be one to scream at nothing. And happening upon the cleaned skull of a cat in a renovated kitchen was most decidedly, as far as Naru was concerned, more than simply nothing.

His thoughts went to the pamphlet he had slipped in his pocket. He'd thought it interesting, a collection of short stories by a romantic American author, resting forlornly on the old chest by the window. Though, after quickly surveying the other old debris of the attic, the house was most likely last owned by a foreign, European or even American family. And, taking into consideration the Victorian-style architecture of the house, the same family had built it.

Inwardly, Naru groaned in frustration. Knowing the origins of the house appeared to be a necessity, but so far all his attempts at uncovering them had been in vain, the closest Christian church having been burned and rebuilt within the past century, the internet proving useless, and his usual sources ignorant. As far as Naru could tell, the house had just appeared, begging to be renovated, a hidden past asking to be disturbed.

Night seemed to come rather slowly. I found myself unable to do much more than lay around on the floor of the attic, the possibility of Yami never coming back and leaving me alone with _them_ almost too much to bare.

I wasn't sure what Yami had done to get rid of them earlier. They still remained, that much I knew, but they'd gone silent, only rustles and whispers echoing around the house.

It seemed that even they could feel the heaviness that had fallen with the nighttime.

I wondered what they wanted. Kudo and Koru had reason to be here, in my house. An investment to protect. But what did the others want—Naru and Mai and their friends. They had no investment, no responsibility to keep them here, did they?

Yami would know. I knew he would. Yami always knew the reasons why.

_She_ was impatient, Yami could feel the tension. It had pervaded the house above, forcing Yami to descend into the dark and figure out what it was that had irked _her_. Or rather, infuriated _her_.

"I want them gone, _Neo-kun_." Yami, despite himself, cringed at _her_ sarcastically endearing tone. _She_ was upset, he should have long-ago realized, because of the intruders, the ones calling themselves SPR. The construction workers had been but a minor threat. The only real reason for messing with them was to entertain _Sukai-chan_, who was much more sensitive than the entity in front of him.

He should have known better. He should have been able to remember how greedy the physical world was, the lengths they would go to take something that wasn't theirs.

And suddenly, messing with them appeared to become necessary, convincing them to get out of the old house the best solution for everyone.

But in his defense, he hadn't realized how far along the intangible sciences had evolved, having spent the majority of his afterlife thus far attempting to balance the moods of the two spirits stuck to the house. He had to admit, seeing a data-based scientist like the black-haired boy working alongside the… spiritualists was surprising. And very, very threatening.

Threats of such a size upset _her_, understandably. And _her_ upset was something Yami had hoped to avoid, considering the last time he had allowed _her_ anger to run free, it had spilt over into the physical realm and caused a church to burn to the ground. And the time before that…

Yami quit with the reminiscing. He didn't want to blame _her_, couldn't allow himself to blame _her_. If he did, well, he didn't want to think of what would happen to odd _Sukai-chan_, let alone the poor, obnoxious, if honorable human researchers, if _she_ felt abandoned again.

"_Neo-kun_," the pitched whine almost dragged Yami into another fit of reminiscing, yet instead of being accompanied by a playful giggle, a rumbling growl came from the darkness in front of him. "Get them out. _Please_?"

Yami sighed. "I'm not strong enough—"

"Then get her to do it!" howled a feral voice. Yami pulled back, frightened.

"I've tried, but she's too—"

A snort. "She's too _what_?" the voice mimicked, the word "what" dragging out in jealousy. Yami thought it better not to finish his sentence.

He had tried convincing _Sukai-chan_ to help him, but intimidation was a useless idea to her. He'd been hopeful at first, when he got her to shove the trunk down the stairs. But these newcomers seemed to have reaffirmed the fears she harbored about retaliation. As well as encourage her acceptance of a passive afterlife.

In fact, the way things were now, after his outburst, she would probably, somehow, befriend the researchers—

Yami smacked himself, letting out a sigh that interrupted a crazed speech. _Sukai-chan_ befriending SPR was as bad as _her_ getting upset.

The balance would be broken.

And it would be his fault.

**Okay, so I wanted to post this chapter before I got to 14AmyChan's question. There's a backstory, I'm not sure how much I'll get into with the plot, so I'll just tell you all some important bits that I might be forgetting no one else knows while I'm writing. I tend to give long winded answers to everything, so forgive me :p  
There's three ghosts in this house:  
****_~Sukai-chan_****: I've been calling her a poltergeist, even though I'm sure she barely fits the 9 rules or whatever from the first episode. I just remember that poltergeists move stuff, so that's why she's a poltergeist. She's bound to the house.  
~Yami: he's a spirit stuck in limbo or purgatory, for lack of a better term. Going by Catholicism and Christianity (which until I study Religions next semester are the ones I know best), he can't get into Heaven and he wasn't "evil enough" to get into Hell (there's a reason he can't get into Heaven, which I'll probably put in the story later). So, because he's just a spirit, he has no major abilities like a poltergeist, and he isn't bound to the house.  
~****_She_****, as Yami refers to her: here's the classic crazy spirit (haha, sorry NaginiFay). She resides in the basement of the house, and is pretty much based off the spirit in The Bloodstained Labyrinth arc. Again, bound to the house, particularly the basement.  
So, again, sorry for the long-winded explanation! Hope that made things a little clearer?  
Thank you to Twilight Journey, BelleCherie, and Hitomisuko for the follows and favorites—as well as NaginiFay, 14AmyChan, Rose, and Emina105 for the reviews—they're always much appreciated:)  
Finally, because I forgot to do this previously, while I'm reading the manga, for my sake, this is all based off the anime. Hope that's ok!**


	6. Glass Against the Stone

Naru was pacing, which would have bothered Lin if he was making any noise. But Naru never made noise when he paced. Silence was something Naru had always been good at.

Lin easily resisted the urge to rub his eyes. They burned after staring at a computer all day, but he was rather used to that. Naru had asked him to find out the story of this house, and the quicker he found it, the sooner they could get out of here and the sooner Naru would be out of danger again. If only until their next case.

"Have you found anything?" Naru said, standing over Lin. The assistant didn't react to the young man's sudden action, hiding his slight surprise at Naru's impatience. It was very uncharacteristic, and it wasn't as if anything too far out of the ordinary had happened. They hadn't even heard any knocking or stomping.

But if Naru was worried, something must be wrong.

"We can't even be sure what town this house was originally built in, the town lines have varied so much," Lin replied, not pausing his incessant tapping on the keyboard. "You obtained nothing from that book, I imagine?"

Lin didn't have to look at Naru to know he was shaking his head. "Needless to say, it wasn't very important the final moments of anyone's life," he stated. He was silent for a moment, before releasing a sigh. "Perhaps Mai's tragic laziness will give us something to work with."

Lin did not need to break his concentration to know Naru was looking down affectionately at the young brunette who was no doubt asleep on the sofa.

_Mai couldn't see much through the cloud of snowflakes; they came down like a waterfall, leaving her blind after just a few feet. But she stumbled through it anyways, the cold numb against her skin._

_A crouched black figure broke through the senseless white in front of her. _Gene.

_He didn't seem to notice her come up behind him, and Mai opened her mouth in a greeting that was void of sound. She tried again, this time gripping her throat slightly, as if a little pressure would fix it. But again, her "hi" was as empty as the world around her._

_So instead, she crouched down next to Gene, who glanced sideways, a small smile playing on his lips. _

_But just as she was about to voice her thoughts aloud, Gene grabbed her hand and placed it softly on the snow in front of them, drawing her attention to what he had been studying._

_Shallow paw prints littered the ground in front of them, close together, small as a jacket button. They weaved in circles, leading away from Mai and Gene. With her eyes, Mai followed their path, looking up into the snow, only to see a gate, tall brick walls supporting it from each side. The wrought iron shimmered wet under the clean snow, dark against light._

_With a gentle pull, Gene stood up, leading Mai up, her hand still grasped in his. There was no sound as the two made their way towards the gate, stepping carefully around the tiny paw-prints that were rapidly disappearing with the snowfall._

_Gene stopped just before they reached the imposing gate._

_Mai looked at Gene, wanting to tell him that it was the same gate, without the broken chain and ivy, that they'd passed through in order to get to the house. But he nodded before she could try, recognizing it as well._

_Noticing that the prints went beyond the gate, Mai took a step forward, curiosity pushing her onward. Gene grabbed her shoulder before she could push on the gate, shaking his head when she looked back at him questioningly. Lazily, he pointed, drawing Mai's attention to a tiny mound in the snow, just beyond the gate. The paw-prints stopped just before it._

_A soft, rustling noise broke through the silence like the bell of a clock-tower. "Oh, the poor thing!" cooed a high voice. Mai stiffened as a figure raced into view, kneeling down next to the tiny mound._

_Through the snow, Mai could make out the young woman, bundled tightly in a maroon frock. Light curls fell from the hood, blocking the woman's face, but Mai could hear her soft whispers as she dug her hands into the snow._

_"Sh, it will be alright. You poor, poor thing," the woman whispered, lifting something dark and still up out of the snow._

_"Lucy," another voice whispered. A young man, pale, with dark hair pulled back into a low ponytail, stepped up next to her. He wore a thin white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, black slacks hanging loosely. The cold didn't seem to touch him as he placed his hand on her shoulder before bending down next to her. "Lucy, you must realize—"_

_"Don't, please," the young woman whispered, looking at him. Mai could see her face, wide blue eyes wet, lips and cheeks a rosy pink. Cupped in her hands lay the limp body of a small cat._

_Confused, Mai looked at Gene, who only smiled softly back at her._

_"Lucy—"_

_The woman let out a sob, falling into the young man, who embraced her gently._

_"Why would he do this?" the young woman sobbed._

_"_Lucy-chan,_ it's just a stray—"_

_"Is that what you think of me, too, _Neo-kun_?" the woman snapped, sitting up sharply and glaring at the man. "A stray that was lucky enough to be loved by your _masuta_?"_

_The woman seemed to instantly regret her words, drawing the tiny body in close and allowing herself to be embraced by the man again._

_"No, _Lucy-chan_, of course not."_

_Mai stood, watching the scene forlornly, unsure of what exactly she was seeing. She looked over at Gene, who had vanished._

_A series of sharp, juttering crashes shoved Mai to the edge of consciousness, enough to make the sad winter scene before her vanish._

Naru sat in the sofa chair by the couch, one eye on Mai, another on the small collection of Poe's works. Refusing to consider himself stumped, Naru had begun stubbornly avoiding the mystery of the case, reviewing again and again the little evidence he had. He leaned on his knees, expression pensive, book held high by one hand.

After a number of short stories and long poems, with titles like "The Raven" and "The Tell-Tale Heart", Naru had only been convinced of one thing: Mr. Poe was a hopelessly tragic soul.

A noise, like a sheet of glass shattering against pavement echoed around him, the floor shaking violently.

The wheeled desk chair slammed against the wall as Lin stood up violently, Naru's gaze, unfazed, following him.

Only when Monk, shirt hastily thrown on as he had rolled out of his cot, entered the room, the door flying open, did Naru close the book and sit up straight. "What was that?" the Buddhist monk exclaimed.

For a moment, no one answered; then Naru stood up. "I had assumed that you had just fallen out of bed," he said. Monk threw him an unreadable expression as John came up from behind him, a wide yawn escaping from the small priest.

"I thought it might have come from the basement," he groaned, half in English. Out of the corner of his eye, Naru saw Lin give a short nod of agreement. Naru, neither agreeing or disagreeing, simply sat down again.

"Why don't you three go investigate then?" he suggested, already beginning to open up to the page he had left off on.

"What about Masako and Ayako?"

"You couldn't pay me enough to go down there!" Ayako hollered, obviously awake and listening from her room just down the hall.

"What sort of priestess does that make you?" Monk hollered back. Lin, catching the glare Naru threw in their direction, shooed Monk and John out into the hallway, closing the door behind him.

Leaning back, Naru cast his gaze in Mai's direction, smirking despite himself when he realized the part-timer hadn't even awoken through all the commotion. With a tired sigh, he leaned forward on his knees again, and opened the booklet, rereading the final paragraph of "The Fall of the House of Usher."

But it was the title of the next short story that he found himself reading a third time.

_The Black Cat._

I thought about investigating the shattering. It was more noise than I was used to, even compared to all the recent ruckus, and the way it rang through the entire house, not just as an echo, but as a clean, dramatic vibration, was something I had yet experienced.

But from the sounds of it, Naru and his gang was on it, hollering back and forth at each other. I wondered if maybe another one of their contraptions had been broken, wondered maybe if Yami had broken it in another attempt of his to scare them off.

The image of Yami, focusing all his strength to knock over one of the skinny, black contraptions, was enough to make me laugh. I pictured him falling through it, once, twice, only on the lucky third try did he bring it crashing down.

And it occurred to me, he hadn't asked for my help.

_Mai could feel herself sinking back down into her dreams. Round warmth hit her like a gust of wind._

_The kitchen around her bore a faint resemblance to SPR's headquarters, but the cluttered counters, a wash-bin filled with just used dishes, and a hearth, smoke burnt, ash ridden, and fire-filled, convinced Mai that she had never been there before._

_The door on the back wall, one that did not exist in the room as Mai knew it, swung open, cold air rushing in along with a few brave snowflakes that melted quickly. The young man entered, cradling the cat in his arms, the young woman Lucy following quickly behind._

_"I do not want false hope, _Neo-kun_," the woman said, unbuttoning her coat as the young man made his way over to a counter near the hearth, clearing a spot and placing the small body down gently._

_"I swear to you, _Lucy-chan—_toss me your coat," he said. Without hesitation, the woman did so, handing it over to him as she stepped near the fireplace. With just the cackling and cracking fire making a sound, the couple's haggard breaths slowed, the young man wrapped the small cat, who's tiny chest rose and fell quickly only once, in the woman's coat._

Yami grabbed at the shard of glass _she_ held in her hand. It wasn't as if _she_ could really cause any more trouble than _she_ already had, it was merely a reflex left over from his lifetime, when existence was such a fragile luxury.

_She _didn't care much for being ignored, Yami knew. And _she_ had a tendency to overreact when _she_ realized that _she_ was, in fact, being ignored. Yami had made the mistake of spacing out before while _she_ was talking, and usually he would only find himself aware of his surroundings again after _she_had thrown him hard against the basement wall or after _she_ had whined malevolently, high and ringing. He hadn't been expecting _her_ to seize one of the window panes the construction workers had brought down—he could remember chuckling softly as they did so, quaking in their torn boots, unaware that _she_ was stalking them through the dark, stone-floored basement. Yami had convinced _her _that simply doing that was enough to scare them from _her_ space.

_She_ had seized the pane while Yami had been caught up in thoughts of the balance he needed to preserve. Only the shattering of glass, reverberating not just through the air of the basement but down into the earth, through the stone foundation and the frame of the old house, had brought him back.

It had, unfortunately, also drawn the attention of SPR.

Three of them—the lanky Chinese man, the light-haired foreigner, and the sometimes serious musician—were now stumbling their way through the dank, dark space. The blond and the monk muttered to each other as they stepped over the corpses and bones of long-dead animals, the tall and stern assistant just a foot ahead of them, waving a flash light back and forth. They'd doubled back on their steps multiple times over, Yami had absent-mindedly observed, not that there was much to explore anyways.

"_Neo-kun_, you're ignoring me again," _she _whined. Yami pulled his gaze away from the spiritualists, looking into the darkness where _she _mostly hid away.

"I'm sorry, love, but do you see what you've—"

"I don't care!" _she _hollered, forcing Yami to grind his teeth as the beam of light flashed in their direction.

"_Lucy-chan_, please, if you want them to go away—"

"Oi, _Lin-san_, Takigawa, look at this," called the accented voice of the blond-haired priest.

Yami cringed, already knowing what they had discovered. He tried so hard to destroy it, to hide it at least, but he alone was nearly powerless, weak and pathetic. And its destruction was not something he could ask lightly of the spirit next to him, let alone the spirit three floors above him.

"_Neo-kun _," _she _whimpered, _her _mind forever scattered. "What have they found?" Yami couldn't answer; he was focusing, struggling to gather strength. He needed to get rid of them, needed to get them out before—

"Brown-san, Bou-san?" a delicate voice called from the top of the stairs. Yami stiffened. He knew that voice.

"Masako!" the monk called, coming around to the bottom of the stairs. "Tell Naru that we've found something, and we're bringing it up!"

Yami's eyes widened as the air around him ebbed with power, the spirit beside him tensing and audibly growling. Bring it up, remove it from the basement—no, he couldn't let them. For _her_ sake and his sake, for _Sukai-chan_'s sake, for their sake, he couldn't let them take it out of the broken, static space it had come to reside in.

"_Neo-kun_," _she_ whispered, her voice cracked, hoarse, rough and demanding.

Throat dry, panic stricken, Yami evaporated, leaving behind the cramped, oppressive space for the cleaner, clearer atmosphere on the floor above, the anger and authority of the spirit, the one always shrouded in shadows, coursing malevolently through him.

Masako froze, her mouth open, her request for them to leave whatever they had found alone dead in her throat. She was used to her presence being resented, for spirits to convey their ill will through the air around her. In the attic, despite her courage, she had felt the ominous presence, the oppressive one that threatened her. She knew Naru's theory, that the broken mirror had been a distraction, was correct. She knew that in this house existed two entities, one that despised her and one that hoped to protect her.

And she knew that the former was the one behind her now. She knew without any physical sensation that it was the reason she began her tumble down the stairs. She knew without any coherent thought, any verbal communication, that this entity not only wanted, but needed her gone.

Not only wanted, but needed her and Mai and Naru and everyone else out of the house, off of the property.

And understanding this, lying numbed and shocked at the bottom of the staircase, the old stone hard under her neck, her head, her back, her friends already crowding despairingly around her, she hoped she would be able to tell them what she'd understood.


	7. The Cat Under the Car

I did go down and investigate the second crash. Not because it had the same, bone-shattering, authoritative quality that the previous one held, but because Yami had appeared next to me, demanding that I did so.

"I promise, _Sukai-chan_, you'll understand what I mean after you watch this play out."

"What you mean by—"

"By playing dirty. By scaring them out."

I raised an eyebrow, but followed him down the attic stairs.

"Isn't that what you tried to do earlier?" I asked. He whipped around. Something wasn't right with him. I was pleased that he'd seem to have forgiven me, happy that he'd come back to see me, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. The way he bounced when he walked, fidgeted with his hands, as if he had too much energy and not enough to do. Yami had always complained about not having enough energy to do anything.

"No! Well, yes, but you didn't let me. This time, I—"

I stiffened. "I was talking about the scream, Yami. The woman's scream from earlier."

Yami's brow furrowed in confusion, then the memory dawned on him.

"That little joke, you mean? With the cat skull? No, no! This is much better I promise—"

I didn't bother to listen to the rest of Yami's sentence, running past him and down the staircase to the first floor.

I followed the accented voice of John, the worried, hapless voices of the others I didn't know, hurrying through the half-renovated rooms of the first floor. I was moving towards a side of the house I'd never before ventured into. The side that, in the attic, was represented by a shadowed and windowless cubby.

A doorway opened up in front of me, separated from the formal front hall of the house by a skinny, short hallway. I could hear the voices of John and his companions echo up loudly.

Yami was standing in the doorway. His expression had calmed down, he no longer fidgeted or jumped. He was serious, even angered, and I stopped moving just a few feet away from him.

"Yami, what did you do?"

"Wait here and you'll see."

"How come I've never been over here before?" Yami shrugged, casting a lazy glance into the dark room behind him before looking back at me.

"How should I know? You have no reason to leave that attic, but you do so anyways."

He had a point. I'd wandered the house before, more often without him than with, so it didn't make sense for him to know why I'd never gone to this side before.

But I didn't want to let it drop. I knew the room behind him was a staircase to the basement of the house—it dawned on me suddenly. I could picture the basement, unlit, musty, cold. I'd never been to this part of the house before, but I knew what Yami was hiding.

I just didn't know _why. _Any of the whys.

I took a step forward. "Yami," I said, meeting his steady gaze. "What did you do?"

He smirked. "Patience is a virtue." I glared, barely a foot away from Yami and the doorway now.

"I don't care. _What_ did you _do_?"

Yami disappeared, the dark doorway opening up for a moment before the caramel-haired man appeared, carrying the limp body of tiny Masako in his arms. Blood matted the back of her head, her left ankle, the foot bare and bruised, was twisted at an odd angle.

I didn't bother to step to the side as the man hurried by, John and a black-haired man I was unfamiliar with just behind him. I listened to their voices as they made their way across the house, but I wasn't paying attention to a word they were saying.

The door to the basement was wide open in front of me, gaping, menacingly inviting.

Then, it slammed shut, the knob rattling, the wood around it cracking from the force.

Yami took a deep breath, sitting down on the top step of the staircase, the high from the foreign energy gone, having finally been used up entirely in the effort of closing the door. What had he been thinking, showing _Sukai-chan_ what he'd done?

_Stupid, stupid, stupid_, he thought. The fact that she'd ventured so close, the fact that she wasn't placated by his answers, the fact that she just kept asking questions, was enough for Yami to understand the gravity of the situation, how close the balance was to breaking.

"_Neo-kun_," the spirit in the room below whispered to him. He could smack himself for calling her Lucy earlier. She wasn't Lucy. He wouldn't let himself believe that. He couldn't let himself believe that, couldn't let himself believe that the broken spirit that hid in the shadows, the one he'd twisted and the one he couldn't fix, was what remained of the young woman he'd once loved.

Masako's empty shoe flew through the air, slamming into the door behind him. "_Neo-kun_," _she _growled.

If he was going to call _her_ Lucy, he might as well start calling _Sukai-chan_ Lucy too.

"I really don't think we need both of us to take her."

"You are _not_ leaving me behind! I'm next!"

"And what would lead you to that conclusion, Ayako? If there is any next, then I'd bet Mai or John is it—you're too old."

Monk's face hit hard on the wood floor as Ayako fumed. "Please, this spirit obviously has it out for beautiful, brilliant women. His order is a little mixed up, but he'll figure it out soon enough, and I don't want to be around when he does."

Monk was up, ready to retort, but John broke in, stepping in between the crypto-married couple. "Who goes isn't really important, considering the longer we bicker, the longer it will take to get Miss Hara help. She is bleeding, did Kazuya mention that?" John knew they were making light of a situation they didn't understand, a situation that frightened them, but the pettiness of their arguing bothered him nonetheless.

The two paled, shame clear in their expression. Then, Monk set himself, moving determined and quick; what seemed like barely a moment later, he pulled out of the long driveway and onto the main road, Ayako with him.

Mai was still asleep on the coach. Naru had returned to the chair beside it. Blood on his cuffs, he sat on his knees with his chin in his hands, his gaze stuck on the book, which he'd placed on the makeshift coffee table beside one of the unused laptops.

He'd told Masako it wasn't necessary for her to go and find out what the others were doing. She and Ayako had made their way to the office room soon after he'd started reading "The Black Cat". Ayako had complained about being woken up, muttered about Mai still being asleep, while Masako had stood forlornly near the door.

"I hope they're alright," she had said in her lonely, petite voice. "Maybe we should go check on them?"

"Not necessary," Naru had replied, not looking away from his book. "They are fine, I'm sure."

"But Kazuya…" Masako had muttered, and Naru had ignored.

"Oh, leave it be, Masako. It's only been a few minutes. They'll be back soon," Ayako had said.

But now, Naru felt like breaking something. Anything. He should have known to take Masako's concern more seriously. She didn't get critically worried over just anything.

And now she was on her way to the hospital, and the room sat in silence. Mai asleep, John waiting expectantly for something, a whisper, a command. Lin wasn't even tapping away on the computer; he, too, was waiting for Naru to give orders.

Something Naru felt he no longer had the right to do.

He felt what could only be described as relief when Mai suddenly sat up. She looked around the room wildly, a cold sweat making her face shine.

Everyone, everything, seemed to be panicking. Yelling, shouting, arguing, ignoring. The house had never felt smaller, the walls closing in with each step away from the door Yami hid behind.

Never before had I so desperately wanted to get out.

I stumbled along outside the house, following the edge of a large stone road. I had no idea where it went, but it led away from the house, away from Yami and Naru and the others. That was all I cared about.

I didn't want to see what happened to Masako, didn't want to believe what Yami had done. Jokes, that was what he showed me, what he played. Jokes to make the live ones glance anxiously behind them, irritate them until they finally left.

He told me that he thought we should play dirty.

I suppose it was my own fault for not really understanding that he was serious.

The image of Masako, limp and bloody, was enough to make me gag, doubling forward in my tracks.

It didn't make sense that we, as dead and non-existent as we were, had the power to do that, to physically harm someone… _alive_. If Masako died, if it proved true that we even had the power to take away the one advantage they held over us, then what was the point of it all? What was the point of dying and non-existence? Of not being _real_?

Swallowing hard, catching my breath, I sat back and surveyed where I was. I'd never left the house before, the outside was as foreign to me as the basement—unknown but oddly familiar.

It was dark, and out of an old, wondrous habit, I looked around for moon, only to find it covered by thick, ominous clouds. A heavy fog kept me blind after a few feet, and wind whipped around me—through me. Tree branches, hanging heavy and low, bounced with the gusts.

One in particular caught my eye. With every gust, it dipped low, a hard, short crack would resound through the air. With each dip I pictured it breaking, snapping and slamming hard against the stone.

Light flashed out of the corner of my eye—something was barreling in my direction, following hurriedly along the road. Standing up, I looked from the lights, to the tree limb, and back to the lights. With each glance the lights grew bigger, brighter, the branch hung lower, heavier.

Without thinking, I stepped out into the road.

Monk knew it was stupid to be speeding in fog this thick.

"Can't you go any faster?" Ayako asked. She sat in the backseat, cradling the unconscious Masako. "She's starting to bleed again."

"I'm already going too fast for these conditions, Ayako."

"But—"

Taking his eyes off the road for a moment, Monk glanced into the back seat. "We won't be able to help Masako if we're—"

"Monk!" Ayako hollered, her eyes looking past him. Monk whipped around, simultaneously slamming on the brake. He held his breath as the brakes screamed, the car still hurtling towards the young girl that stood in the middle of the road. She was looking at them, watching the car as it came closer, not bothering to try and get out of the way.

Monk was struck by how pale she was, how cold she looked. Long, dark hair whipping around her in the wind, her watery green eyes empty.

"What are you doing? Stop!" Ayako yelled.

"I'm trying!" Monk hollered, his palm slamming against the center of the steering wheel.

The girl visibly jumped when the car horn blared, expression entering her face for only a moment, but she still made no move to get out of the way as the car hurdled closer and closer to her.

Monk couldn't help it, he closed his eyes as the car skidded and Ayako let out a shrill scream.

He didn't open them until the car jerked to dead stop, until an obnoxious creak and crash rang out.

The girl was gone, and just a few feet beyond the hood of the car, just beyond the onset of the fog, Monk could see a tree branch, thick and round, stretched across the road.

Unbuckling, he stepped out of the car, looking around the foggy darkness. He could see the lights of the rebuilt church cut through the fog just beyond the fallen tree limb; the car headlights outlining each individual leaf and twig that lay broken on the road.

Holding his breath, Monk knelt down and looked under the car.

A pair of small, emerald eyes glittered back at him. Without warning, they darted in his direction, and Monk was thrown back on his hands, releasing the air he'd been holding as a skinny, black-furred cat darted out. He watched as it bounced across the road, disappearing into the bushes.

"Monk?" Ayako's worried voice drifted out from the car.

The exhaustion hit me, my breaths labored and throat hoarse. I lay on my back, starring through the trees at the blank, black sky. The sound of their voices was muffled by the continuous wind, but I could tell when they'd left, an eerie silence settling around me.

I tried not to think too much, breath too hard, because all of it hurt.

The only thought I did allow to escape was of Yami. I wondered, is this what it felt like to be him, all the time? Did he always feel this tired, sore, weak?

I chuckled, my chest heaving, muscles screaming, and allowed my eyes to close as the sky opened up and cold rain poured down.


End file.
